


Orange Rhyming Dictionary

by Lint



Category: Nancy Drew (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29649093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: At some point it stops being happenstance.Their constantly crossing paths.
Relationships: Ace/Nancy Drew
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

Of course the elevator is out of order.

The sign stating such is scribbled on in permanent marker, with 'always' written before out, and 'fucking' before order. Classy, Nancy muses before pulling the phone from her pocket, and double checking the information given just yesterday. Fifth floor, room twenty-seven. The stairwell is located just to the left of the broken lift, and she sighs, having not planned to ascend five flights of stairs when arriving.

Admittedly, she's a little out of breath when reaching the fifth level of the building, walking down the hall and counting off door numbers until she reaches the right one. There's a particular knock she was instructed to give, and for a moment Nancy considers ignoring that because it feels a little silly, but does follow through with shave and a haircut.

“Password?” a muffled voice comes from the other side of the door.

Nancy rolls her eyes. This guy has clearly seen too many spy movies in his lifetime, but once again, complies with the request.

“New England clam chowder,” she gives.

For a moment nothing happens.

“Is that the red or white?” comes the voice again.

This time Nancy scowls, rapping impatiently on the door with the bottom of her fist.

“New England clam chowder is always white,” she states irritably.

The door pops open then, Nancy's still clenched fist barely stopping before coming in contact with the guy's chest, as her eyes lift to meet his. Not what she would have expected from a computer nerd type, that's for sure. Clean shaven with long blonde hair, a button up shirt with polar bears all over it, and bright blue eyes that look very amused at her impertinence.

“Well if it isn't Nancy Drew,” he says, looking her up and down. “If I'd known it was you coming, I would have prepared a lobstah suppah.”

She is rarely taken by surprise, and for a moment simply gawks at him trying to place where he could possibly know her from, wondering if she should know him in return. She's only a freshman, two weeks into her second semester at Columbia, and hasn't taken on many cases that would give a reputation to proceed her.

“Horseshoe Bay High,” he fills in of her blank look. “Class of 2016.”

That does nothing to jar any kind of recognition loose. If they ever crossed paths, she does not remember. (Which she absolutely would have.) He steps aside allowing her into the room which, once again, defying her expectations of a tech type. It's spotless for one, bed made and shelves organized neatly, the garbage can tucked into a corner is not even full.

“And you're Ace,” she says with her back to him, still looking around.

“Yes,” he returns. “I am he.”

She cranes back to catch his eye.

“Got a last name?”

He smiles.

“Sure do.”

Nancy scoffs softly when he doesn't elaborate. Right then, to the business at hand.

“According to my roommates friend of a friend, you're the best computer guy on campus.”

That smile is still there.

“Tell your roommates friend of a friend, I'm flattered.”

Nancy shakes her head, despite the smile she feels threatening to pull at her lips.

“And according to that same person,” she goes on. “You are not above looking into places you probably shouldn't be on the internet.”

He folds his arms.

“Is that something you're opposed to?”

Nancy shrugs.

“Not something I've really thought about,” she admits. “But Chase Manhattan Bank is certainly not going to let me look into a customers records without some kind of warrant. Which I do not have.”

Ace nods, and appears to think a moment.

“I could get you one,” he offers. “But I bet the shrewd bankers down in the financial district would never mistake you for a cop. So hacking the database it is.”

He walks over to a laptop perched atop a small table against the wall, and sits on a small cushioned stool, then proceeds to type faster than she's ever seen someone type before.

“Name?” he asks.

“Archibald Ashton Andover, the third.”

The typing comes to a halt, as Ace turns to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I know,” she concedes. “Stinks of old money and nepotism. Which let me tell you, after meeting the guy, is definitely the only reason he's a student at an Ivy League school.”

“Then why help him?”

Nancy asked herself that already. Couldn't find a reason other than first world problems, to dismiss it.

“Because he's probably innocent.”

Ace goes back to typing.

“What am I looking for?”

Nancy peers over shoulder, sees nothing but lines and lines of code that she can't begin to understand.

“Irregular and unauthorized transfers. Money that's quickly deposited and withdrawn.”

“Sounds like money laundering.”

“That is what he's afraid of.”

“You sure he's not trying to get one over on you?”

Nancy takes offense.

“If you if you really know who I am,” she states. “You wouldn't have to ask that.”

Ace turns to look at her again.

“My apologies.”

For a moment, that look holds.

“This might take awhile,” he informs, breaking it. “I can just text you when I find something.”

Nancy has no problem with that.

“Sure,” she replies, heading for the door. “Wait, don't you need my number?”

Ace smirks, but keeps his eyes on the screen.

“I can get your number.”

Nancy scoffs at him again, but exits the room without saying more, and is not even halfway to the stairs when her phone buzzes with a message.

_Pretty good, right?_

/\

“Was he cute?” Bess asks the second Nancy walks into their dorm.

She doesn't dignify that with a response, dropping her bag to the floor next to her bed, before taking a seat with a sigh. Bess is waiting tentatively, and Nancy merely lifts her brows as if to ask, what? Not that she isn't astutely aware a barrage of questions is mere milliseconds from coming her way.

Bess Marvin, British national, though she hid that fact for the first few weeks of their cohabitation with the excuse of working on her American accent. She had Nancy fooled dead to rights, not that she was suspicious in the first place, her skills of observation a little overwhelmed by moving to the big city from small town Maine.

Drama major, though she didn't get into Julliard, and her ridiculously rich family couldn't bare the scandal from one of their own attending a state school like NYU despite its theater program being slightly more revered than Columbia.

“I don't see how that's relevant,” Nancy rebuffs.

Bess' eyes light up.

“Hardly a no,” she teases.

For some reason Bess is dead set on having the complete American college experience she's seen in movies, and is quite insistent on dragging Nancy along for the ride. She's tried to fix her up with at least a dozen different guys since their meeting (even though she herself holds no interest toward them), has said yes to every single party invite ever given, and the more Nancy resists the more Bess charges forward without a care in the world.

“He's an odd duck,” Nancy gives, rolling her neck. “Computer wiz who dresses like a surfer, despite being from my hometown.”

Bess delights in this fact, and Nancy instantly regrets giving it.

“How serendipitous.”

Nancy falls back on her bed.

“It's just a case, Bess. He'll either get me the information I need or he won't, and then I'll probably never see him again. Not every chance meeting is the plot to a romantic comedy you're hoping to costar in.”

“Oh Nancy,” Bess sighs dramatically. “Don't you know?”

Nancy lifts her head so their eyes meet.

“All the world's a stage.”

/\

Ace does come through with good intel, and it turns out Archibald Ashton Andover the third's own father was using his son's trust fund to filter through some extra assets he didn't want the IRS or SEC to know about. Definitely a one percent problem that Nancy can't begin to care about, but Archie does fulfill his payment promise and her meal card will be taken care of until graduation.

She doesn't expect to see Ace again. Never noticing him around campus before the day she went to his room, nor in the previous years they apparently lived in the same town, and attended high school together. So of course, sees him practically every day after being given the report on the Andover's. Whether it be in a hallway heading to class, noticing him trekking up the steps at Butler Library, or literally bumping into him on the subway platform at 116th street.

“Hey Nancy Drew,” he greets casually.

“Hey,” she echoes, then apologizes for knocking against him.

He is none too bothered about that, eyes darting down the tracks, then back to her.

“Where you headed?”

Nancy can't help the grimace that comes.

“Off Broadway for a performance of 'Twelfth Night with a modern twist' by some theater company my roommate made friends with.”

Ace looks at her blankly.

“She's a drama major.”

“Right,” he acknowledges. “But you don't share her love of the arts?”

Nancy shakes her head. “Not really.”

“You're still going, though.”

“She is not someone it's easy to say no to.”

This brings about a smile on his face.

“What about you?” she inquires.

“Korea town.”

She waits for him to elaborate, and continues when he doesn't.

“Any particular reason?”

“Buddy of mine got a shipment of blast processors from family back in Seoul. I'm going there to negotiate for the release of one.”

It's Nancy's turn to stare blankly.

“Computer thing,” he gives.

“Right,” she accepts with a nod. “Good luck with that.”

-

“You should have invited him!” Bess exclaims, once Nancy (regrettably) informs her that she ran into Ace waiting for the train.

The thought never entered her mind because she doesn't even want to be here, let alone would subject someone she barely knows to... Whatever this turns out to be.

“He had an errand,” she dismisses. “Some computer chip, thing. Sounded very important.”

Bess sighs in that disappointed mother way, whenever Nancy resists her offers or suggestions, looping their arms together and guiding her toward the entrance.

“Come along then,” she insists. “The theater awaits.”

/\

The next time she runs into Ace it isn't physical, spotting him at a coffee shop a few blocks away from campus. After giving her order, she wanders over his table.

“Hey Nancy Drew,” he greets.

It's not the first time he's used her full name, but her brow furrows in curiosity as to why, and she does find herself asking once the seat opposite of his is taken. He contemplates a moment, as if he'd never realized that little tick was happening every time he said hello.

“Probably my Dad's fault,” is the answer he gives.

Nancy waits for more.

“He's a cop,” Ace fills in. “So you can imagine how someone with your skill set and plucky can do attitude would be a thorn in the departments side.”

Nancy can't help but smile with pride at the statement. One he matches easily.

“It was not a rare occasion at my house,” he goes on. “Where he'd come home irritated and wave his arms around in frustration. Oh, that Nancy Drew!”

He accompanies the declaration with a series of hand gestures, which Nancy takes note of, and he notices her noticing.

“He's deaf,” Ace informs. “So, sign language.”

Once again, he accompanies the words with their signed counterparts. Before she can say anything to that, her name is called, so she rises to go collect her drink then returns to the table.

“It's kind of funny,” she begins. “Two denizens of Horseshoe Bay both ending up at Columbia.”

Ace nods in agreement.

“The odds don't normally favor that, do they?”

“Any particular reason you chose it?” she asks.

For a brief second it looks like he doesn't want to answer the question, and Nancy wonders if somehow she overstepped but old habits die hard, though eventually he does provide a response.

“Didn't make MIT,” he admits. “And going all the way to California for Caltech felt too far away from my family.”

Nancy's eyes widen with shock. “This was your fallback school?” comes out incredulous.

She had been wanting to go to Columbia since planning for college became a real life goal. All those trips to New York with her dad on business. Falling in love with the city, and knowing that somehow, someday she would end up here. Sure she had fallback schools herself, but the very idea this was not the pinnacle of aspiration is one that never entered her mind.

It must show on her face, because he's smiling at her in a way that makes her look swiftly down to her coffee.

/\

At some point it stops being happenstance.

Their constantly crossing paths.

They make plans ahead of time, to hang out on purpose. Whether it be in one of the libraries to study together, the coffee shop, or just sitting around the Low Steps and talking. Once they headed down to Little Italy for pizza Ace swore she would never want anything else after trying.

Bess won't let up every time Nancy goes to spend time with him though, and one day she just snaps.

“He's not my boyfriend,” quickly denied as her roommate once again suggests otherwise.

“Of course not,” Bess replies, playing along. “He's just a boy you spend an inordinate amount of time with. One that makes you smile every time your phone buzzes with a message from him. One who-”

“Bess!” Nancy cuts her off. “Come on, what is it with you? Why are you so intent on hooking me up with random guys, or pushing me into a relationship with one of the few I actually do like?”

Bess balks at the accusation, but can't deny the truth of it, having tried to steer Nancy toward a dozen or so suitors since they became roommates. Nancy took it with benign amusement for as long as she could, but now that she's doubling down on this burgeoning friendship, it suddenly isn't funny anymore. Especially when it doesn't seem like it is something she herself wants, with the amount of hook ups she's gone through. (Not that Nancy felt the need to keep track of, but couldn't help to. Fifteen to be exact. All of them tall, pretty brunettes, who are not looking for something serious either. Clearly indicative of a type, not that she would ever point it out.)

Nancy waits for any kind of answer, but Bess turns her gaze to the floor, mumbling something unintelligible.

“What?”

“I think you're lonely,” Bess reiterates clearly. “I think you're the loneliest person I've ever met.”

Now it's Nancy's turns to be taken aback, jaw dropping just a little, as her eyes go wide.

“This gift of yours. The detective thing? It makes you keep people at such a distance, and I-”

“Thought it was your job to fix that?” Nancy interjects. “Fix me?”

Bess is quick to backpedal, that really not being her intention at all.

“Of course not!” she assures. “I just thought that... I mean, oh bloody hell, what do I mean?”

Nancy doesn't let her find the answer she seeks, grabbing her bag and rushing out the door, despite the calls for her to come back.

-

She's stared at the same page for nearly twenty minutes, unable to concentrate, Bess' words cycling through her thoughts over and over again. Ace has picked up on this, shooting a few concerned looks her way, but doesn't try to pry it out of her. Knowing she'll only talk about something when she's good and ready. It's one of the reasons she finds it so easy to be around him.

Finally she shuts the book and leans back in her seat, groaning in frustration. She can feel his eyes on her again, and when she meets them, sees nothing but calm patience.

“Bess thinks we're dating,” she blurts. “Wait, no. That's not right. Bess thinks we _should_ be dating, because I'm lonely? I'm the loneliest freaking person she's ever met?”

Ace pushes the book he was reading away, folding his hands and considering how to respond. In doing this, Nancy sees something in his expression she doesn't like.

“Do you agree with her?” is tossed out like an accusation, but of course he doesn't regard it as such.

“No,” he denies. “But you are a very guarded person.” Throwing up a quick hand when she's about to object, he continues on. “That's an observation, not a judgment. Because all those things you've done? Catching kidnappers, and stopping drug dealers while still a kid. They leave a mark whether you realize it or not.”

He's speaking from experience, Nancy realizes. Though he's just like her in that he'll never expand on such a thing unless he wants to.

“You've seen things, Nancy. People at their worst. The true ugliness we're capable of. A person who doesn't know you like that, might confuse it for loneliness, because they can see the walls you built around yourself but have no idea why they're really there.”

Anxiety swirls into her stomach at being seen like this, the only other person allowed to get close was George back in high school. Her first instinct to cut and run, maybe never talk to him again. Followed by the regret that she let Bess in enough, to where even she could see something wrong with her. That aptitude and determination come at a cost of social graces falling to the wayside. No matter how much she's tried to hide that part of herself, it can been detected by someone who stood there long enough to look.

“Her solution might not have been the best option-”

Nancy scoffs loudly at this.

“-but I think her heart was in the right place. She just wanted to do right by you.”

She chews on her lower lip.

“I didn't ask her to.”

Ace smirks.

“Sometimes friends will try without you having to,” he gives.

Nancy's fingers tap nervously on the book she'd closed.

“Do you think we should be dating?” she asks.

That smirks of his stretches into a smile.

“I wouldn't be opposed.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but finds herself matching it.

“Maybe I wouldn't be, either. You know... opposed.”

Ace looks back down to his book.

“Okay.”

They manage to get some studying done, and when finished Nancy isn't quite ready to face Bess, so she accompanies Ace back to his dorm where the offer of watching a movie was presented. He's got a single, and she wonders (not for the first time) if his extracurricular activities had anything to do with such good fortune.

She doesn't mean to fall asleep, but her eyes start getting heavy halfway through Chinatown, and nodding off against Ace's shoulder while huddled together at the top of his bed isn't the worst thing in the world. It's nearly two in the morning when she comes to, checking her phone to relay the time, it the only source of light in the room. Though she can't see his face once the screen dims, he's out cold, but her shifting to get off the bed stirs him up.

“Hey Nancy Drew,” he teases sleepily.

Rolling her eyes, though she knows he can't see, Nancy nudges his shoulder before finally rising to her feet. He fumbles for the lamp on the bedside table, both squinting against the sudden harsh light, as she looks to the door.

“I should head back to my room.”

If he objects, nothing shows on his face, but the offer of an escort makes her smile. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a stun gun and snaps it on for effect.

“I can take care of myself,” she assures.

“Never doubted that,” he tosses back. “But a gentleman still offers.”

It brings out a laugh, as she finally steps toward the door, Ace shooting up quickly from the bed to open it for her like the gentleman he proposed to be.

“I'll see you tomorrow?” she asks once out in the hall.

“Seems likely,” he replies.

Nancy pushes up on her toes, kissing him goodnight because she had a feeling he wouldn't. When his hands lift to cup her face and keep her there a little longer, she can't help to wonder if she might have been wrong about that.


	2. Chapter 2

Nancy stands off to the side at one of the entrances to the Mudd building, waiting for Ace to get out of class. Staring at her phone, her thumb remains paused over the send button, for a message to George she's been meaning to send a few weeks ago.

_Kinda, sorta, dating someone_

There's really no particular reason why she hasn't sent it. Other than, kinda sorta maybe, she wants to keep it to herself for a little while longer. It's nice. Having a boyfriend. She hasn't dated anyone, despite Bess' misguided efforts, since Joshua during senior year. Even though it wasn't very serious. (The fact that she basically ditched him right after being crowned Sea Queen, and spotted Lucy Sable's ghost wandering around her own grave, a contributing factor in her sudden disinterest. She and George's downward spiral into the supernatural trying to solve a cold case nearly two decades old, and being stonewalled by every person in town who could have helped, another.)

Finally hitting send, she's somewhat surprised by how quickly a reply comes.

_hope it's not some preppy trust fund douche bag_

Nancy laughs aloud, the scathing sarcasm of her friend's voice, played easily between her ears.

_actually, he's a big tech guy_

_you're dating a geek???_

_i guess? you might know him actually_

_how could i?_

_because he used to wash dishes at the claw_

Nancy watches the screen intently, as George starts to type, stops, starts again, then finally the phone just rings.

“Only you,” George begins in lieu of hello. “Could go to school all the way in New York and end up dating a local.”

She laughs again, happy to hear her best friend's voice after an extended absence.

“Let alone Ace the dish washing stoner of all people. Seriously, I don't know how much weed he got off my cousin Benji, but trust me. It was a lot. How did you even run into him there?”

“A case.”

“I should have figured that.”

For a beat they don't say anything, then George chimes on.

“He treat you well? Make your heart go all pitter pat?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Otherwise I'd have to kick his ass.”

Nancy feels the smile pulling at her lips.

“Miss you, Georgie.”

George groans against the sentiment in her voice, but returns it easily.

“Back at you, Drewdles. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

“That list is too short.”

“You know it!”

/\

It's not that Nancy has been avoiding having Bess and Ace meet.

Even though they patched things up after the argument with a long drawn out conversation, about boundaries and assumptions, or giving help when it's specifically asked for. Still, she nearly hit the ceiling when Nancy told her about the kiss, and that neither one of them thought dating wasn't an option.

Bess isn't pushing to meet him as she once might have, but Nancy knows she can only hold out so much longer, ever so curious about the boy who'd earned her affection.

Eventually, their meeting does come to pass, at a French bakery Ace recommended because he'd been craving what he referred to as 'killer' croissants the last few days. Nancy admittedly, is ill prepared for how well they hit it off. Conversating with one another as if they were the oldest of friends, reunited after a long absence. The six degrees of separation that led to Nancy and Ace meeting in the first place, laid out like an amusing board game before them, while she can only stare blankly because she doesn't know any of these people.

It feels a bit strange at first, but the more they talk to each other, the more Nancy doesn't mind observing from the edge. Once everyone has had their fill of pastries and cafe au lait, a man in chef's whites comes over to the table and greets Ace jovially. Only thing is, he speaks solely in French, which Ace not only seems to understand but returns easily.

Bess and Nancy exchange a glance, while Ace offers a hand toward each girl in what mostly likely are introductions with their names coming through the language. (But by the way the Chef smiles keenly at Nancy, girlfriend must have been used as a descriptor in there somewhere.)

Ace in turn, introduces the Chef as Henry, and polite hellos are exchanged in English. The pair fall immediately back into French however, and after another flurry of words, Ace excuses himself to follow Henry back to the kitchen. Bess watches them go, then quickly turns to Nancy.

“By the look on your face, I gather you had no idea he spoke French.”

Nancy shakes her head.

“He knows sign language,” she offers. Now wondering if that only came out because of muscle memory when talking about his dad. “But no, this is brand new information.”

“How mysterious,” Bess comments, staring at Nancy in such a way, that she frowns.

Bess doesn't say anything else, but her gaze holds firm.

“What?”

“No wonder you like him so much.”

/\

They've been dating for a few solid months, when finals roar into the end of the semester like a lion. Nancy feels like she's having a week long fever dream, with the sheer amount of work that piles up. One that Ace has woken her from with a gentle nudge more than once, holding her until she calms enough to refocus, then doubles her efforts.

It works so well, that she barely spends any time in her own dorm, only stopping in for a shower and change of clothes. If Ace is bothered by her constant camping out in his room, it never shows, but on day four of cram/test/crash/cram/paper due/test/cram/crash she's feeling a little self conscious about it. As if she's taking up too much of his space. When she gets the nerve to ask about it, the question appears to confuse him, to where she thinks that perhaps he thought himself guilty of the same feeling.

“I've never had this before,” he admits softly.

For a fleeting moment, she thinks he means girlfriend as a whole, even though they've had that talk about past loves and laments.

“Someone like you,” he continues. “Someone who wants to... stay.”

Whatever sliver of self consciousness Nancy felt, evaporates with his honesty, as they meet in the middle with their arms wrapping around one another. They don't kiss, or declare a love both know is growing steadily, simply being each other's eye in the storm of their academic futures.

“Okay,” Nancy sighs. “This is a nice moment and everything, but I've got another paper due in three hours.”

Ace's laugh rumbles in his chest and against her cheek, as a small kiss is pressed to the top of her head.

“Study on, smart girl detective.”

/\

Bess' acting professor arranged a showcase instead of a final, which Nancy can't help but be a little miffed at, after drowning herself is studies and paper work for nearly seven solid days. She and Ace's attendance to said showcase is, of course, mandatory. The seat next to Nancy is empty, as are so many others that it barely constitutes as an audience, in the drama department's tiny theater that also serves as a classroom. Her fellow students must have not had the fortitude of a Marvin in actually getting people to attend.

The seat would Ace would be occupying is vacant due to an emergency text from the star herself, asking for his assistance behind the curtain. If Nancy could have predicted one thing about her first year of college, the roommate becoming besties (they even have a funny little name for it) with her boyfriend, is not what would have made the list. Yet, she cannot imagine it playing out any other way.

Ace returns to his seat just as the lights begin to dim.

“Are her chakras aligned?” she teases in a whisper.

“Don't make fun,” he chides, shooting her a look and finally sitting down. “You know she doesn't test well, without some crippling anxiety to overcome first. Nothing a good platanchor, couldn't help ease.”

Nancy smiles at the word escaping her thoughts a moment ago.

“Did Bess happen to say when exactly her turn is?” she questions, wondering how many first year drama school monologues they're going to have to sit through.

“She did not,” Ace replies. “But what she says about the professor's habit of playing favorites, and her definitely being one, we may be here for awhile.”

Awhile, turns out to be nearly two hours of snippets from plays and movies Nancy's never seen or heard of, and most of her time is spent looking at her phone hidden under the cover of her jacket while Ace watches every single one with rapt attention.

“I can't believe you like some of these,” she needles after the last student walks off stage.

“Like watching people chase their dreams?” he queries.

Nancy's eyes widen at the statement.

“Wow,” she deadpans. “When you put it that way, I sound like a total jerk.”

He grins and nudges her arm, you said it not me, conveyed in a simple touch.

“There she is,” he states, pulling Nancy's attention back to the stage.

Nancy recognizes the dress right away, has seen it hanging from a hook in their room, pristine and untouched as if it were some kind of art piece. As well as from the movie Bess took her to see, in one of those theaters that still plays the classics. She's the spitting image of Maggie Pollitt, hair and makeup done perfectly to match Elizabeth Taylor's take on the character. But the way she delivers the lines is entirely her own, a voice recognized as the same one Bess used when they first met, frantic and melon collie all at once. The words Nancy realizes, are the same ones she'd catch her roommate mumbling to herself at times.

A small sting of shame pings inside Nancy's chest, never taking Bess' choice of study very seriously. Because here she is, very serious about her craft, doing something Nancy knows she could never do in front of the few people who cared to come.

Ace's hand covers hers, as he watches entranced.

“Wow,” he utters. “She's great.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees. “She is.”

/\

To be honest, Nancy keeps anticipating some kind of drama. Because the lack of it does nothing but arouse suspicion. It can't be this easy, can it? Finding another person you just click with in so many different ways? That the things they do have in common far outweigh those that don't? Where they can talk for hours, about anything and everything. Or fall into extended periods of silence just as easily, without the worry that such an absence of contact might bring.

When cases pop up now and again, (like the one out on Long Island about a missing map. Or the one up in White Plains involving a witch tree symbol.) He's there to help her when and can, and follow her lead where he can't, knowing the need to investigate is just a part of who she is and always will be.

It's a lazy Saturday afternoon, where the need to study is gone because finals are over, and they're just occupying space together. Ace sits on the floor with his back against the bed, typing away on his laptop, while Nancy is laying on her stomach atop the mattress. There's a book propped open next to her, but she hasn't looked at it in nearly fifteen minutes, the pretense of reading just for fun lost in the moment. Instead she scoots forward, so that her head hovers over his left shoulder, smirking as his eyes dart toward her but focus remains forward.

Kissing his cheek, her arms snake over the edge of the bed and across his chest, enveloping him in an awkward hug. His smile is automatic, head tilting so that their cheeks press together. With him, Nancy doesn't see the end of the road, and the idea is as welcome as it is terrifying. Taking a breath, she turns her right hand so that it pulls his attention, and hopes that her fingers are positioned correctly like the photo she'd used to learn.

“Yeah?” comes out of his mouth, rather than what she assumed he'd say, as has happened countless times before.

“Yeah,” she echoes, nuzzling against him.

Ace turns so that he can catch her lips with his, but the kiss doesn't last as long as she'd like due to the odd twist of his neck, instead letting their heads fall together again.

“Love you too,” he returns, in both words and sign.

/\

They're standing on a platform at Grand Central, waiting for their train to arrive. Nancy and Ace both with single, easy to take carry-ons, while Bess stands there with three suitcases and a Prada travel bag. The girl herself is getting more than a few curious glances from all the passengers walking by, with the large black sunglasses still on her face even though they're underground, coupled with the perfectly form fit Chanel suit. Seriously, she looks like a woman who bumped off her rich husband and is skipping town before the cops come knocking at her door.

“Why didn't you want me to hire a car service again?” she questions.

Nancy looks to Ace, the mode of travel being his idea in the first place.

“I like trains,” he states simply.

One of Bess' eyebrow quirks up, as she sighs heavily.

“Vintage chic over plush leather seats and champagne,” she laments. “Some friend you are.”

Ace smiles broadly at the dig.

“You're welcome,” he says.

-

Bess fell asleep with the phone still in her hand an hour into the ride, both Nancy and Ace taking bets on how long it would take for it to fall to the floor, and wake her. It's going on forty-five minutes so far, and Nancy is dangerously close to losing, when the train shuffles on a rough patch of track jarring everyone in their car, but neither causing the phone to drop or Bess to wake up.

Outside the window Connecticut rolls on by, Nancy staring at the scenery for long moments, while Ace appears to be coding something on his laptop. Their arms brush against one another, the train's rocking motion sometimes pressing them closer, eyes meeting almost every time it does.

Though their end destination is hours away, Nancy can't to help to anticipate the meeting of Ace's parents, with a subtle nervous energy. Invited to Shabbat dinner, even though Ace did his best to explain what it entailed, she spent an hour or so online researching some further details. She's never met a boy's parents before, the teenage way of 'this is my date for the dance, hello how do you do?' not withstanding. It carries a certain weight to it. One she has no qualms about carrying, but still feels a tug from the effort.

Ace stops typing and closes his laptop, casually glancing at Bess to assure she's still out, then looks to Nancy with something in his eyes that instantly pulls at her defenses.

“I wasn't honest with you before,” he states, sending Nancy's thoughts instantly to some dark place. What is it people do? Make sure you're in a public space before dropping some terrible truth so you can't make a scene?

“What about?” she manages to ask evenly.

“When you asked me why I chose to go to Columbia.”

Nancy's suspicion turns to confusion. That conversation was months ago, when they were still just a casual presence in each other's lives. And yes, she always prefers honesty over the lack thereof, but what possible purpose would a false reason for attending their university serve?

“Does that mean you did get into MIT?” she asks before she can help it.

He opens his mouth to reply, laughs nervously, then shoots one more glace at Bess.

“I have a brother,” he says. “I mean, I think I have a brother. What little information I could find about him, said he went there. So I applied mainly as a way to put the idea in my parents head, that maybe I found the family's deep dark secret, but they called my bluff.”

Nancy's jaw drops slightly at the revelation. This not at all what she expected him to say.

“Ace that's... I mean, I-”

“He's in witness protection,” Ace interjects. “I managed to get into the Federal database, but almost got caught, and I've been too afraid to go back.”

Nancy thinks she understands why he's telling her this.

“You want to find him.”

Ace nods.

“And you're asking for my help.”

He nods again.

“Not in the best way, I'll admit but-”

“Of course I will,” she assures, reaching for his hand. “It's kind of my thing.”

Ace smiles, leaning down for a kiss.

“Who else but you, Nancy Drew?”

/\

The Claw looks the same as it ever did.

Not that Nancy expected it would magically change in the year she's been away, but that always seems to be an idea present in fiction, realizing how small your world really is only when you finally step away from it.

“How quaint,” Bess comments, appraising the building with those big sunglasses pulled down the bridge of her nose.

Nancy is accosted instantly when the group steps into the restaurant, a trio of girls all exclaiming her name, as they bunch together for a group hug.

“Jessie! Ted! Charlie!” she greets warmly. “Hey!”

Ace and Bess stand off to the side, bemused looks on their faces, while Bess hold a hand over her heart touched by the scene.

“Where's your sister?” Nancy asks the trio, eyebrow lifting at the look exchanged between the three of them.

“In the back,” Jessie informs.

“Working,” Ted chimes in sarcastically.

Charlie doesn't comment, but has a mischievous grin on her face.

“Okay,” Nancy replies, drawing out the vowel. “Guess I'll go get her?”

“Go for it,” Jessie offers, waving an arm toward the kitchen door.

Nancy beckons for her compatriots to follow, and stops dead in her tracks two steps inside the kitchen, causing Bess and Ace to bump into her back. George is there alright, sucking face with a guy Nancy has never seen before, the pair jumping apart as if from an electric shock when realizing they're not alone.

“Jesus Drew, don't you knock?” George exclaims.

Nancy, recovering from the sight, easily falls back into their old banter.

“Don't you know it's customary to leave a sock on the door?”

George waves a dismissive hand at the comment.

“Your fancy schmancy college rules don't apply here.”

The two glare at each other a moment, before breaking into easy grins, and moving in for a hug while the three observing the scene share awkward nods in recognition of each other's presence.

“You gonna introduce me to your boyfriend?” Nancy chides.

“Whoa, whoa,” George dismisses. “Who says he's my boyfriend?”

“Well, his tongue was halfway down your throat, I just thought-”

“Nice to see all that studying hasn't dulled your powers of deduction.”

The guy in question clears his throat dramatically, and steps forward, offering Nancy a hand.

“Nick,” he says with their shake. “And yes. George and I are dating.”

“I should hope so,” she teases. “Nancy.” Then nods her head to the pair behind her. “Ace, who is my boyfriend. And Bess, along for the ride.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nick offers.

The five of them all exchange polite pleasantries, as Nancy embraces the warm feeling pooling in her stomach, watching her two worlds become one.


End file.
